Short Stories from Nireville
by The Wanlorn
Summary: This is exactly what it says. Short stories about Nire, unconnected to each other. R/R/E, please!
1. A Day in the Life

**Short Stories from Nireville**

(A/N:  This is a collection of vocabulary compositions I have to do for English class.  I decided to publish them for those who like Nire because that is who they all have to do with.  You can guess at my vocabulary words if you want.  None of them are related to each other.  R/R/E!)

**A Day in the Life**

Disclaimer:  Frajen belongs to TSR (or is it WotC, now?).  So does Jander

            The clash of swords rang out constantly throughout the encampment.  The losing side pushed on with fortitude, trying desperately to regain the advantage.  The man Nire was fighting was no where near as good as her.  A hole gaped in his defenses, and Nire's sword darted in for the kill.  
            She stopped, a mere hairsbreadth from the man's shirt, and both lowered their swords.  "You make that mistake _constantly, Frajen.  What will it take to ram it through your thick skull?  I am tired of reiterating this speech time and time again.  I'm sure you've got it memorized almost verbatim."  
            The blonde haired priest of Lathander growled in frustration.  "I'm not a fighter, you know that.  Why don't my clerical powers suffice?"  
            "Because.  One day, through some freak chance, you will be bereft of that magic, and have to swordfight your way out of something.  What happens if me or Jander aren't around to help you?"  
            "Well, can we be done for the day?  You've already killed me sixty times over."  He ran a hand through his sweaty, wild hair that always looked unkempt, even though he was overzealous about cleanliness.  
            "Sure.  You did better today, though."  
            Frajen smiled.  "Thanks, lass."  He walked off to clean up and change into drier garb.  
            Nire went to survey the mock-battle, her stolid face showing no emotion.  She watched as Jander deployed his 'troops' in a flanking maneuver.  Nire augmented her voice so everybody would be sure to hear her over the clash of weapons.  
            "Guys!  Think you can take a break for lunch?  It should be finished by now!"  It had been her turn to make food for the entire encampment.  
            Jander and Azrael, leader of the other side, eyed each other warily, and then grinned.  "Sure Nire!"  Jander yelled back.  
            "I don't know," Azrael said in a guise of seriousness, "wasn't it her turn to cook?  I hope she hasn't poisoned us all."  
            Nire grinned at the friendly gibe.  "I haven't adulterated the food.  Yet."  Her usually dour face was shining with the smile.  
            There was a collective laugh at the insidious intimation that if they didn't hurry, she would poison them.  The troops broke up, friend finding friend, to go see what kind of opulent feast she had prepared over the communal fire in the center of the ring of tents.  Reindeer venison had been slowly roasting as she trained Frajen, and now it was done, the palatable smells wafting to everyone's noses.  
            A troop of children tumbled by, tossing a ball back and forth.  Nire snatched it out of the air with her left hand.  Although she was a rightie, she was relatively ambidextrous at most things.  
            "Lunch time, kids."  They scurried over to the adults, impatiently waiting for their turn at the food.  
            Out on the field, Jander stretched his pliable body, working out the kinks from fighting for so long.  Nire walked over and tentatively began to massage his tight shoulder muscles.  Jander did not always like people behind him, where he could not see them, but today he was fine with it.  
            "How were they?" she asked of the troops.  
            "Not bad," he said, "not bad at all today.  I think we're ready to raid the dwarven mines."  
            "Sweet deal," was Nire's only response.  
  
_

*Fin*


	2. Holocaust

**Holocaust**

            Azrael grimaced when he saw the holocaust.  As much as he liked to pretend he was impervious to emotion, even this cursory examination struck a chord.  The entire hamlet had been demolished.  Bodies were strewn among the shattered building.  It was entirely feasible that goblins had done this.  They were almost the quintessence of evil – no act was beneath a goblin.  
            Azrael's interest in scrutinizing the wreckage more loosely was already tepid, but Nire had sent him out as a scout.  That was enough of an impetus to make him squelch his aversion to the carnage and walk forward.  He did not want to put his traveling companions in jeopardy, if something other than goblins had done this.  For a moment, his mind retrogressed nostalgically to a time before there was The Band.  It had just been him, Nire, and Jander, traveling the open road at night.  Those were the days!  
            Azrael paused to meticulously examine a pair of tracks in the dirt, in the middle of a ring of blood.  Nire often extolled his adroitness at being able to discern tracks out of nothing.  These were definitely goblin.  
            Nire watched Azrael from afar, glad to see that he wasn't totally cold-hearted.  She could see that his belligerent attitude was gone for now, as he turned around and saw her.  She walked amicably toward her friend.  
            "Well, Az?  What is it?  What pervert did this?"  Nire felt anything but benevolent to whatever could do something like this.  Her voice betrayed her amicable face.  
            "Goblins."  His eyes spoke of rage.  "Those little f—"  
            "Don't say it!"  Nire interrupted him quickly.  "No swearing! This is a paper to be passed in at school!"  
            Azrael sighed.  "You ruin all the fun."  
            "Yes, I do."  Nire closed her eyes and cast out her senses, searching for any living being.  There was none, besides Azrael.  Then she tried for anything undead.  Nothing.  She mentally called the rest of her companions to come and join her and Azrael.  She tried to keep up her stoic façade, but her duplicitous eyes betrayed her as tears welled in them.  "I swear, I'm going to hunt down those b—"  
            "No swearing!" Azrael reminded her quickly.  
            "I am going to hunt down whomever and whatever did this…"

*Fin*


	3. Decisions

**Decisions**

            She had set the precedent – no punitive action would be taken against those who disobeyed.  Now, she had to redress her sojourn into lenience – she had let her discipline grow fallow.  Now she had to fix this mess before anyone else was alienated.  The Band did not need any more adversaries to deal with.  She had to come up with some artifice to coerce him into fixing what was wrong without seeming inclement.  Pretty soon, the man would perpetuate the hatred of everyone, causing his own demise.  
            She mused over a way to confront him without being insulting, her eyes fixed on the urbane man across the camp.  At first, she had thought the problem just to be a negligible mistake – a one-time thing.  But now…  Everyone else was too craven to confront him, fearing his anger.  When he got mad, he tended to harass you until you admitted defeat – he claimed it exhilarated him…  
            Enough thinking.  It was time for action.  "Azrael!  Get your butt over here!"  
            "Yeah, Nire?"  
            "Now, I know that your culinary skills are quite excellent, but you have to delete from your stews all that pepper!  You're going to burn somebody's mouth off…"

*Fin*


	4. The Pearl

**The Pearl**

Disclaimer:  The Pearl belongs to John Steinbeck.  Jander isn't mine, either, he goes to WotC.  Raistlin doesn't belong to me (WotC), but his tower might.  I'm not sure on that point.  Mr. Myers is his own person.  Nire belongs to me!  As does the plot and shit.

            "Aargh!" Nire shrieked, trying to disperse her aggression and expunge the aggression from her system.  
            "What!  What!"  Jander looked up from the carving he was working on, sitting next to her.  He searched for malevolent forces.  He may be almost invulnerable, but Nire definitely had finite resources for protection.  
            Nire's generally nonchalant attitude was completely gone.  She threw a book across the room of Raistlin's tower.  Jander caught the title flashing by - The Pearl.  "I _hate_ this book!" she shouted.  "I have absolutely no esteem for this author!  This entire story is retarded!  I swear, it's affiliated with the devil or something!"  
            "Breathe, Little One.  Try to put it into a cogent argument.  Why don't you like the book?"  
            "Because," she said sullenly.  
            "I'm not omniscient, M'ija.  You have to read this for school?"  
            Nire nodded as she muttered, "Stupid Mr. Myers…"  
            Jander wanted to ascertain her exact problem with the book.  "Well, if you have to read it, tell me about it, and that will make you feel better."  
            Nire sighed.  Jander had an uncanny ability to make her talk.  "The story itself is dumb.  This dude, Kino, finds a pearl, which he think is, like, a panacea for everything wrong in his life.  To him, finding this pearl is a huge attainment.  He's going to, like, send his son to school and everything.  All of a sudden, all these people are skulking around and trying to kill him, and this doctor guy had a totally supercilious attitude.  And all these pearl buyers are anything _but_ scrupulous.  It's got a message and stuff - the baby dies because of the pearl - but it is _so_ stupid.  My dad read it to us when I was in, like, first grade.  I found it stupid then.  My dad did not bequeath his love of Steinbeck unto me.  I wish that stupid book would-" Nire's hands converged and burst back apart, miming an explosion.  
            "It's okay, Nire.  It's a venial thing.  At least you don't have to pay attention in class, since you already read it."  
            Nire sighed and went to retrieve the book.  "I guess so…"

*Fin*

(A/N:  This story (sort of) really happened.  I was flipping out to my invisible friend because we have to read The Pearl for language class (damn Mr. Myers!) and I truly hate the book.  Anywho, you know how this is a vocabulary composition?  Well, I got the three points for using all twenty words, then he offered one more point if it was about that friggin book.  So I did that…and didn't get the extra point because it was negative!  How unfair is that?  Grrr…)__


	5. Oedipus Rex

**Oedipus Rex**

Disclaimers:  You already know Jander doesn't belong to me. WotC gets him.  Mr. M. (which is abbreviated because his name is 'so ethnic he doesn't make anyone try to pronounce it *grin*) is his own person.  Unless he's really an android sent out to try and control the minds of young school children.  Oedipus Rex (aka Oedipus the King) belongs to Sophocles.  Except it might not cuz I don't know if they had copyrights back then…  Enjoy!!!

          The benefactor of the orphans had been particularly altruistic today.  When someone had the temerity to ask for her assent to keep some money, she went off on them, turning from the Nire of clemency to truculent Nire, yelling at the person in unfeigned anger.  The man plodded to the back of the group, grumbling to himself how someone should have warned him that she was in a bad mood today.  Apparently, the elaborate warning system they had in place was not infallible.

          Now, Nire lay in repose, half asleep, a book on her stomach.  Her peaceful look was at discrepancy with her active mind, which was remising over the few happy times of her life.  She was so indomitable that not even sleep could overcome her, without her wanting to embark on a journey to the Land of Nod.

          "And what are you reading this fine evening, my lady?"  Jander sat down next to her.

          His chivalrous manners made her smile.  The diffident elf always had the power to make her smile.  She wrinkled her nose as she opened her eyes.  "What's that pungent odor?"

          "Oh, it's just the hypersnake."

          "Hypersnake?"

          "Yeah.  It's been following me.  So, what are you reading?"

          "Oedipus the King."

          "Is it better than The Pearl?"

          "Much.  I love this book.  We get to read it in school."

          "Mr. Myers' class?"

          "Yep.  This guy is king, and there's this whole story behind it, and he's married to his mother, and-

          "What?"

          "Yeah, but he doesn't know it's his mother.  There's a dearth of kids in the kingdom, 'cause it's cursed.  It's a facile read.'

          "I'm glad you finally like something you're reading."

          "Yeah.  Hey, did you know that hypersnakes are extremely virulent?"

          "What?!"

          "Yeah!  They're wicked poisonous."  Nire began to laugh as Jander began to look for the hypersnake to kill it.

*fin*

(A/N:  By now you're asking "What is a hypersnake?"  Well, it's another inside joke from English class.  We were talking about the sniper who happened to still be on the loose at the time I wrote this.  And Mr. Myers said that we couldn't say 'sniper' out loud any more because it was a 'sensitive subject' (yes, he did do the quotes and everything).  Mike wanted to write his composition on the sniper, and Mr. Myers said: 'Sorry Mike, but you can't write it on the iper-snay.  One of the other guys (damn, I love my class!) thought he said 'hypersnake'.  So he asked what a hypersnake was, and it was all funny.  And I got the extra extra point this time!!!)


	6. Aballah

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title:  Sickness

Summary:  A continuation of my Nire ficlets.

Rating:  PG

Spoilers:  None

Distribution:  Ummm…No one would want this, but if you do, ask first.

Disclaimer:  Nire is mine.  However, Jander belongs to WotC and Christie Golden.

**Sickness**

            "How are you feeling today, Nire?" Jander asked carefully.  Disease had been raging rampant through the girl as of late, which put her in an ominous mood.  She was likely to take any small comment or question as being officious and intolerable.  He had already given everyone else explicit instructions to stay away from her while she was sick, unless they wanted her to banish them so they would die, destitute on the open plain.  
            "How do you *_think*_ I feel?!" she asked mordantly.  "Good gods!  Nothing we've done has been able to extirpate this disease!"  Nire was not a very pious person, so she said the gods' names in vain often.  "Pretty soon, I'll have wasted away and be nothing but carrion!"  
            Jander tried to suppress his mirth.  Her fever had already reached its pinnacle and was coming down, he could sense it.  One of the things his vampiric abilities comprised of was to be able to sense sickness.  "M'ija, it's been, what?  Three days?  You're already getting better."  He had meant it to be a solace, but it was an inopportune thing to say.  
            "Yeah, that's what *_you_* think."  She glared at him.  "I wonder, if you guys don't believe that I'm dying, is that premeditated murder?"  
            Jander couldn't keep in the laugh.  "Ah, M'ija, you're so funny."  
            She brandished the thermometer at him.  "Look!  I've got a temperature!"  
            Jander took it and held it up to the light - it was an old one from her world, still using mercury.  His eyes were deft at picking out the number.  "Yes you do," he acceded.  "A whopping one hundred degrees."  
            "See!  I'm dying dying dying."  She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose.  "Dying.  In accordance with the prophecy."  
            "Knock it off, Nire.  That is so annoying."  Jander rolled his eyes.  
            "No it's not, in accordance with the prophecy."  
            "I'll buy you whatever you want," he offered.  
            But Nire wasn't in a venal mood.  "Liar!"  It was ironic that Nire was calling Jander, who *_never_* lied, a liar.  It was not an auspicious thing.  
            Jander decided to change the subject.  "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a garland in the corner.  
            "Mistletoe," she grumbled.  "It's almost Christmas in my world.'  
            "And what's that musty smell?" he asked, stretching his supple body.  
            Nire held up a book.  "An original copy of 'Antigone'.  We're reading it in English class.'  
            "What's it about?"  Jander glanced outside at the stately peaks of the Spine of the World.  
            "I have no idea.  I haven't read it yet.  When I'm done writing my composition for English, I have to read the prologue."  
            "And what do you have to write your composition on?"  
            "Three points for all twenty words, another one if it's about 'Antigone', and two more if it uses all the 'Antigone' vocab, too.  But I can't do that because I don't have all the vocab.  Which bites."  
            "Eh, you'll get a good grade anyway."  His curiosity sated on that subject, he moved on to another.  "Do, Nire… Do you know hoe to take the venom out of hyper-snakes?  Make them unvenemous?"  
            "Yes I do, in accordance with the prophecy."  
            "Stop that!"

*Fin*


	7. Sickness

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title:  Abbalah.

Summary:  A continuation of my Nire ficlets.

Rating:  PG

Spoilers:  None

Distribution:  Ummm…No one would want this, but if you do, ask first.

Disclaimer:  Jander is a product of WotC.  The Aballah Deb is a real person, but don't tell her I'm using her.  The events of this _are_ an ongoing argument between me and her (I think - too many people with 'D' names on the list).

**Aballah**

            The turbulent wind buffeted the martinet as she struggled to move against them.  "I abhor this harsh weather," she grumbled.  "Why is this problem extant?  I must obviate the next issue before it comes up to the forefront."

            Nire glanced up from where she was snuggling with Jander.  The two renegades had found shelter in a commodious cavern.  They were both extremely somber, due to the squalid conditions of every inch of the voluminous floor.  She was tired, having spent the past hour talking vociferously and animatedly about her favorite character in the movie she just saw.

            She was barely able to discern the figure coming out of the pouring rain.  The chaos outside - the raining and thundering and lightening - was giving her a headache.  The only thing worse than rain, in her opinion, was if she were interred alive.

            She suddenly shrieked, startling Jander out of his doze.  She pointed at the figure with a wavering finger.  "Its'… It's… It's the Aballah Deb!"

            Jander looked slightly confused.  "Is she the one with the corrosive wit who tried to implicate you in that scandal?"

            Aballah Deb, the Crimson Queen, stood before them with her hands on her hips.  "Nire!  This reprehensible behavior must stop!  You know the rules!"

            "Um…" Nire said.  "Technically, you were breaking them, too."

            "I am the list cofounder!  I have not waived my right to change the rules in my favor, which I just did!  Admit that you are wrong."

            "But I'm not!"

            "Let me amend that statement.  Give him up, or else!"

            "No!" Nire cried.  "Aragorn is _my_ hott, brooding, angsty, surly hero!"

*Fin*


	8. Food!

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title: Food!

Summary: Another one of my Nire ficlets

Rating: G

Distribution:  Just tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer: Nire and Amariyah belong to me.  Jander belongs to WotC and Christie Golden.  Nojheim belongs to WotC and RA Salvatore.

**Food!**

            The capricious child glared at the copious pile of food that had been allocated for her.  None of it was palatable - she would not touch it.

            Nire finally gave up her assiduous attempts to get Amariyah to eat.  No amount of chastising the sophomoric child worked.

            "Jander," she whined, turning away.  "You deal with her!"

            The elf merely laughed and turned away.  He knew there would be no indemnity if the two-year-old started her favorite game - throwing the food.  And he had in inkling that the child would not start to eat until they were gone.

            "You should exult because we're leaving soon and someone else will have to deal with her," he commented, his voice holding no rancor.

            A gnarled, emaciated hand reached up and took the fork from Nire's hand.  "I'll do it," said a quiet voice.

            Nire glanced down to meet limpid eyes.  "I'm omnipotent, and yet I can't get a baby to eat.  Thanks Nojheim."

            He grinned spontaneously, a rare sight.  "You know she doesn't like to eat when her teeth are coming in."

            Nire grinned, her brash attitude softened by the poignant picture of the goblin trying to get the baby to eat.  Usually, they didn't try so ardently to make the child eat, but food had been short lately, and everyone needed to eat when they could.

            Nire deviated from the straight path she was heading to kiss the stumpy mortal on the cheek in thanks, then joined Jander.  They walked off together into the sunset.

*Fin*


	9. Evil Floppy Disks

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title: Evil Floppy Disks

Summary: Another one of my Nire ficlets

Rating: PG for the allusion to the dirty mouth of an enraged girl.

Distribution:  Just tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer:  Nire is mine.  Jander is the property of WotC and Christie Golden.  Mr. LaChapelle is my computer teacher.

**Evil Floppy Disks**

            Nire gnashed her teeth contentiously, her blithe mood gone in a snap.  No one coveted the position of Jander, who stood next to the wrathful girl.  They hoped to have a respite from her anger, but apparently, they would not.  There was going to be retribution for something.

            "I hate my life," Nire growled, her baseball cap askew on her disheveled hair.  "This is (_beep_) lamentable," she professed.

            "Aye," Jander acquiesced.  "But don't looks so crestfallen - it wasn't that long."

            "Shut the (_beep_) up," she swore viciously.  "You know, I am an exponent for forever ridding the world of essays.  I'm at the vanguard of that movement."

            "It'll be okay, M'ija.  Mr. LaChapelle will fix it."

            "No he won't!  This is an insuperable problem!"

            Jander's pet hyper-snake snaked by sinuously, allured near buy the enticing sounds of an eminent fight.

            Garrulous, the elf was not.  A wastrel of words would be a misnomer for him.  But now he talked, trying to calm Nire.  "So what if the disk ate half of your essay?  Don't you have an extra day?  You can write it, easy.  You're good at essays!"

            "Bull dren!" she shouted.  "I curse the gods for doing this!"

            A sonorous voice came from the skies.  "Do not curse us; it is not our fault you buy cruddy disks."

            "Bite me," Nire sneered and strode off down the hall, muttering, "Mr. LaChapelle better be able to get this stupid first half off this stupid disk…"

*Fin*

(A/N:  You know that when there's a real person in these, there's a story behind it.  So, what's the story behind this one?  Well, Mr. Myers had us write an essay on To Kill a Mockingbird, and I chose the hardest one.  I got the first half written out during Computers, since I was all done with my work.  I saved it to a floppy, went home, and the damn thing had eaten it!  It was the best work I ever did, and I had to rewrite it, because Mr. LaChapelle couldn't retrieve it.  I was _so pissed_.  But then I got a 99 on the paper anyways, so, it wasn't a total disaster.  Thanks for reading!  Go review!)


	10. Stochasticity

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title: Stochasticity

Summary: Another one of my Nire ficlets

Rating: G

Distribution:  Just tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer:  Nire's mine.  Jander, however, goes to WotC and Christie Golden.  The Dale belongs to WotC, too.

**Stochasticity**

            Nire bounced up and down.  "I am clairvoyant!  I can see the future!"

            Jander attempted to placate her and halt her obnoxious bouncing, by changing the topic.  "I can not fathom how someone of such exemplary integrity could so misconstrue the acts as disreputable."

            Nire was not taken in by his guile.  "Stop your conclusive alluding.  Don't you want to know what I see?"

            Jander sighed, looking around the stark landscape, praying that it was not something superficial.  "What, M'ija?"

            "I know the itinerary fort he chorus trip!" she exclaimed, and promptly tripped over one of the protruding rocks that were endemic to the Dale.

            Jander's placid face did not reveal the hysterical laughter inside.  Nire glared potently at him as she picked herself up, using the fall as a pretext to kick him in the shins.

            "Stupid elf…" she muttered, walking off.  "I need to go continue my latest work of plagiarism…"

*Fin*


	11. Conflagration

Author:  The Wanlorn

Title: Conflagrations

Summary: Another one of my Nire ficlets

Rating: G

Distribution:  Just tell me where it's going.

Disclaimer:  Nire and the kids are mine.  Dan is the property of WotC.  No money is being made.

**Conflagration**

            The elated children bounced around in a tangible show of their joy.  The adults smiled indulgently, even those who tended to be callous and acrid in their speech.  The august mountains provided a fitting backdrop for the festivities.

            Nire ruminated for a moment, truly an inveterate space-case, trying to quell a rising fear.  They had put out the conflagration that swept through the camp, but something still did not feel right.  The quiescent air, even devoid of nocturnal noises, gave her an uneasy feel.

            "Guys," she said, tacitly telling the others of her worries.  "I think Dan said something about going for ice cream…" She felt no compunction for the lie.

            They all swarmed around the bard, begging him to take them then.  He scowled, biting back the platitude about to come from his mouth, and left.  The clandestine scheme had worked.

            Nire had sworn to abjure from being a worrywart, but it was an indelible piece of her.  Even when the worrying was irrelevant.  But today, it wasn't.

            She growled frustratedly as the trenchant flames rose again.

*Fin*


End file.
